


Come When You're Called

by Memorycharm (tzy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: pornish_pixies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-31
Updated: 2004-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzy/pseuds/Memorycharm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco owes Neville a debt and tries to play him. Neville gets the upper hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come When You're Called

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004 for a fantasy fest at pornish_pixies on LJ.

"Look. I _owe_ you. Wizard's debt and all that," Malfoy whispered. He glanced over his shoulder.

Neville frowned. If he'd known saving Malfoy's life would mean anything like this, he'd never have done it. Not that he meant to do it in the first place. It was his bad luck to be in just the right spot to overhear Baxter casting the curse on Malfoy's broom, and his further bad luck to produce the most perfect levitating charm his wand (old or new) had ever seen, just in time to cushion Malfoy's speedy descent towards the Quidditch pitch.

A mumbled "thanks" at Dumbledore's prodding was all Neville got from Malfoy that day, and that was weird enough. The idea of Malfoy owing him anything made him intensely uncomfortable. But the gossip was already starting--he'd heard the jokes in the corridors.

"So I'm supposed to get myself into danger so you can save me and repay the debt?" Neville said, stepping back. Malfoy was crowding him in the small alcove.

"No. Look. There are other ways," Malfoy said. "You're one of us, Longbottom, you ought to know...." Neville must have looked confused, because Malfoy sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "If both wizards agree, the debt can be paid off in any way they like."

"Fine. Give me a chocolate frog, and we're even." It was hot and stuffy in the alcove, and Malfoy smelled like fancy soap.

Malfoy snorted. "Don't be dense. It's got to be _significant_. Sacrifice of the body, or something like that. I've got to _do_ something for you. And quickly, please. I don't fancy leaving school owing _you_ a wizard's debt."

Neville considered. "Well, there are some seedlings you could repot for me. I've been crossing Spiny Stickleweed with--" He broke off his sentence at Malfoy's horrified look. It was just as well. He didn't like the idea of letting Malfoy loose on his Herbology project.

"God, Longbottom, can't you just ask for a blowjob like a normal wizard?" 

"What?" Neville squeaked out the word and felt his face flush deep red. Of course Malfoy noticed immediately. His mouth contorted into its most nasty sneer.

"A gobble. A spit and polish for your wand," Malfoy said, stepping closer with each word. Neville's face was burning; he felt sweat droplets begin to creep down his forehead. " _You_ know. I imagine it'd be your first. I _know_ it'd be your best," Malfoy said, leaning close so his fringe brushed Neville's cheek. 

"Sh- shut up," Neville said, pushing past him and starting down the corridor. Malfoy's taunting laughter followed him.

 

That night, Neville couldn't sleep. Images of pale hair and wet lips--lips that nibbled and sucked--filled his thoughts. Malfoy was right; he'd never got that far, with anyone. He wanted to. Dean said it was brilliant (after making Neville and Seamus swear on the honor of Gryffindor that they wouldn't tell Ron). Neville had spent most of winter term staring at Ginny's mouth.

Neville let his hand slip down into his pajamas. The embarrassment of wanking to thoughts of Malfoy wasn't strong enough to make the need go away. He grasped his prick and brought himself off as quickly as he could.

The next time Malfoy cornered him, he pushed Neville into an empty classroom. Arithmancy, Neville thought, by the shining equations inscribed on the goblet that sat on the instructor's desk.

"Thought more about my offer?" Neville felt like a mouse caught in an owl's line of sight. Malfoy smiled. "I know you did," he said, keeping his voice low. "I'll bet you had a nice wank, thinking about it." His smile widened as Neville blushed and looked away.

"Did you? Did you wrap your fingers tight around your cock and pretend it was my mouth?" Malfoy's breath smelled of mint and lemon. "Did you fuck your hand and imagine me on my knees?" Neville moved back until he bumped into a desk. His prick was traitorously stiff from Malfoy's words, and he tried to hunch over so his robes would disguise it.

"But your hand is a poor substitute, isn't it," Malfoy said, moving closer as Neville backed off. "Your hand isn't wet and slick. It can't lick--" he was almost on top of Neville now-- "or suck. Can it?" He pressed his palm against the front of Neville's robes, squeezing ever so slightly. "Still want me to muck around with some dirty old plants?"

No, Neville didn't want him to muck around with any dirty old plants. Neville wanted him to quit teasing and-- 

"Stop it," Neville said firmly. He'd be damned if he'd let Malfoy's teasing get to him. He could imagine the scene in the Slytherin common room, Malfoy holding court: "Longbottom was ready to lift his shirt at the drop of a hat. I'll bet he'd have given in for a quick toss in the changing rooms."

"Just-- fucking stop it," he said again. Malfoy snickered. Neville stomped out of the classroom. He was barely around the corner when Hermione tapped him on the shoulder.

"Neville, are you all right?" She had one arm loaded with books, and her satchel slung over the other.

"Fine," he said, fluffing out his robes.

"It's only-- you look a bit flushed. You aren't coming down with something?"

"No! Erm, no," Neville said. "Here, let me carry some of those." 

Neville tried his best to vanquish his erection as they walked towards the library. Imagining his usual nightmare--showing up for Potions naked--finally did the trick.

"Can you help me look something up?" he asked Hermione when they'd put all of her books down. 

"Of _course_ ," she said, clapping her hands together as if she'd won a prize.

 

When Malfoy came looking for him next, Neville was ready.

"Been tossing off to wild thoughts about me again?" Malfoy said, pulling Neville into a classroom--Muggle Studies, this time--and shutting the door. "Been rubbing your knob, wishing your palm was my tongue?"

Neville took a breath and closed his eyes. Go on, he told himself. You can do it. He opened his eyes. "M- maybe," he said softly. "But now I'd like the real thing." He looked up to meet Malfoy's gaze.

Malfoy's forehead wrinkled briefly. He squared his shoulders. "As if. You'd come before your trousers hit the floor."

"Try me," Neville said, feeling bolder. He leaned against the teacher's desk and tried to look jaded and nonchalant. Malfoy's confused look returned. 

"Why don't you lie down? It's easier that way, you know," he said, crossing his arms.

Neville shook his head. "No. Like this, on your knees, like you said." The stern tone in his own voice surprised him. What surprised him more was Malfoy dropping to his knees without a single snide comment. 

Malfoy unbuttoned Neville's trousers and pulled them down. His face was red and blotchy, but his eyes didn't look angry. They looked--

"Mm, I see no one will ever call you Shortbottom," Malfoy said as he pulled Neville's y-fronts down.

"Shut up," Neville said.

Malfoy shut up.

Then Neville felt-- Oh, god. Malfoy's tongue licking and swirling around the head of his prick, and Malfoy was right--it was miles better than any hand. He gasped and clutched the edge of the desk, almost wishing he'd lain down. One look at Malfoy on his knees, his mouth red and puffy around Neville's cock, was enough to banish that thought. Malfoy's face was red and sweating; his light hair stood out in sharp contrast. He was breathing hard, and the puffs of air from his nose tickled Neville's groin.

Malfoy sucked; it felt like he was swallowing Neville's prick whole. It was different from what Neville had imagined. The pleasure of it was so intense, it bordered on pain. Neville dropped one hand to Malfoy's shoulder, either for balance or to push Malfoy away; he wasn't sure which. 

Too much, too much, Neville thought. It's too much, I'm going to pass out and Malfoy will win. That thought put steel in his knees as Neville's spine twisted and a smooth warmth burst through him, spreading like soft caramel creams or Twiddler's Twisting Taffys. He felt himself pour out in spasms, and it took all his energy just to keep his footing.

Their deep breaths filled the room. Neville wiped the sweat from his forehead. Malfoy stood up and affected a sneer.

"Are we even?"

Neville met his eyes. "Not hardly," he said, pulling his trousers up. Malfoy looked-- _worried_. "I- I think we've got more to discuss," he said, forcing his voice to behave. He reached down and cupped Malfoy's groin. "Like this," he said, relieved to find the erection he'd expected. 

Malfoy opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.

"Have you been thinking about this and pulling your knob?" Neville said. "Doing it certainly got you ready." He drew in a breath and pressed against Malfoy's prick. "Have you?"

"You're mad," Malfoy said. It sounded weak and distant.

"I think I'd like to see it for myself," Neville said, ignoring Malfoy's words. "I think I'd like to see Draco Malfoy have a nice wank." He looked at Draco expectantly. "You know, I did some research on wizard's debts, with Hermione," he said. Draco blanched. 

"It seems they can only be repaid in kind. So something like this wouldn't work at all. And now I'm left with the question, why on earth would you want to suck my cock?" Neville was quite proud of how his voice stayed stern and even. He sounded almost confident.

"It was a joke. It got out of hand," Draco said.

"Shut up," Neville said.

Draco flushed, but he shut up. Neville's heart pounded in his chest. Draco had _shut up_. Just like that. "I don't think it was a joke; I think you stayed awake nights and tossed off thinking about it. Now I want you to show me what you did."

Draco paused, and then slowly unfastened his trousers. Neville swallowed, sure Draco could see how nervous he was, how his heart beat and his breath came fast. Draco's cock was thin and nearly as pale as the rest of him; his pubic hair was barely noticeable.

"Go on," Neville said. He knew he couldn't speak for much longer, not without giving away the game.

When Draco's hand slid around his cock, a thrill zipped down Neville's spine. Draco was _doing_ what Neville said. Neville glanced up at Draco's face--his eyes were drooping, his face was hot, and his mouth (still red from earlier) was open. Draco _liked_ it. It wasn't something Neville'd imagined; it was real, and right in front of him.

"This is what you thought about, isn't it?" Neville said, whispering to hide the quaver in his voice. "Standing here, having a-- d- doing that?" He cringed. Surely Draco had heard that falter, and would pounce at the sign of weakness.

"Yes," Draco choked out, seemingly oblivious to Neville's distress. "Yes, yes it is." Neville's heart dropped to his stomach, and leapt back up. He felt like jumping up and cheering, but at the same time, his eyes prickled. This must be what it feels like when magic works properly all the time, he thought.

"Tell me," Neville said quietly.

"This is what I think about," Draco whispered. His hand tightened around his prick, and he gave two long pulls before slipping his fingers around the head. 

"Standing here, exposed, doing what you tell me to." He rubbed some of the slick pre-come down the underside, and used his thumb to slide his foreskin back and forth. 

"I- I think about pushing myself to the brink, but not coming. Not coming, even though I want it more than anything. Not coming until I hear you say, 'come'." He cupped his balls briefly with his other hand. 

"Sometimes, I imagine it's your hand, your mouth..." Draco said under his breath. He stroked faster now, concentrating his movements on the head of his cock, using his other hand to squeeze the base.

Neville's breath forced in and out of his lungs so hard, he must have sounded like a panting dog. Draco was close; his prick was almost purple, and sticky threads of fluid dripped down his fingers. Neville gulped air and said, "Come."

Draco's body shivered, and he doubled over into a pale question mark. He made a sound like a whine, and his shoulders convulsed. His come spurted thickly. It was the best thing Neville had ever seen.

 

He watched silently as Draco pulled up his trousers and adjusted his robes. "Look at the mess you made me make, Longbottom," Draco said, sneering. "You'd best clean it up before someone comes in."

Neville almost laughed. Draco thought things could go back to normal. "No," he said. Draco frowned. "I don't think I will. I think you should clean up after yourself." He suppressed a grin at Draco's gobsmacked expression. "I think you'll come when called from now on, won't you?"


End file.
